Of Texts and Hey! Where's the Milk Gone!
by Sherley Holmes
Summary: What could be more dangerous than a bored Sherlock? Quick humor piece, no slash, written with TYRider.


**Author's notes: Here's the second one! As before, TYRider has the other half because she is epic. Did I mention that she's a lot like John? Loyal, friendly, into guns... Then there's me: antisocial, prone to self-destructive behavior and addiction, constantly bored... Again, we didn't compare until the very last, and Reviews are very much encouraged :)**

**Also, I forgot in the last one to give acknowledgements to Rukushaka, our proofreader and Mycroft/Moriarty counterpart (she was My, but she makes a creepily fantastic Jim).**

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_Leave the wall alone, Sherlock. One smiley is more than enough. Also, we're out of milk. Again. Why? ~JW_

Sherlock glanced at the text through half-closed eyes. He held a gun loosely in one hand, his mobile in the other. An empty can of spray paint lay on the floor beneath a dripping yellow smiley face.

Flopping down into his chair, he quickly flipped through a mental drawer filled with possible answers, settling on the one that would irritate John the most.

_Milk? How should I know? - SH_

The annoyed reply came quickly and made him smile.

_Only two people live in this flat. You and me. I've not been using a pint of milk a day. That leaves you. What have you been doing with it? ~JW_

Sherlock thought for a moment. Should he detail his experiments in a long text? No, that would take a while, even as proficient as he was at texting. He would settle for more feigned innocence.

_Honestly, John, I don't know what you're on about. Ask Mrs. H. - SH_

He could practically hear John now. _"You're seriously accusing our landlady of stealing our milk?!"_ It made Sherlock smile again, which was a lot of smiling for the self-proclaimed sociopath. Hmm, he would have to consider how John caused that reaction in him when he wasn't even around.

The phone chimed, and he glanced at it.

_Mrs. Hudson NEVER borrows food from us. She won't even open the fridge since the incident with the toes in the custard. ~JW_

Hmm. This line of deception was getting dull. In fact, everything was dull. He hadn't had a case in over a week, John kept stealing his cigarettes, and his experiments were getting old.

Sherlock decided to change tact. A little honesty maybe? He typed a short message and hit "send."

_Bored. - SH_

_Heaven help us. ~JW_

The reply was snarky and sarcastic, just slightly annoying. Sherlock growled and stood up, dropping the gun on the floor carelessly. He paced around the flat, in the special path he had worn through the piles of experiments and odd assortments.

He felt like crawling out of his own mind in desperation. Everything was boring, even his own thoughts! He needed… something. Maybe John could help if he was finished being sarcastic.

_Where are you? - SH_

John's answer came quickly and made Sherlock frown in annoyance.

_Not this again. Deduce it why don't you? Hint: I'm in the flat. ~JW_

That couldn't be right. He distinctly remembered John leaving to… go somewhere. When was that? Oh, well, it didn't matter. He sent another text and then waited anxiously.

_Thought you'd gone out. Call Lestrade. Need a case. - SH_

_You're off your game today. I think four nicotine patches is one too many—fogging up that great brain of yours. I'll call Greg. No promises. ~JW_

Sherlock wasn't sure whether to be affronted by the "off your game" part of the text or pleased by the fact that John had recognized his brilliant mind. He settled on a neutral response.

_Fine. - SH_

He decided to wait, but waiting was far more boring than texting/annoying his friend, so a few minutes later, he sent off another message.

_Called him yet? - SH_

Sherlock continued pacing around the room, following the little path. He needed something to do! He had already used enough nicotine patches to kill a lesser man, and if he didn't get some kind of relief, he was going to start looking for a better, more dangerous kind of drug.

_Talked to Lestrade, no interesting new cases, but he promised to look through the cold cases and call me back. ~JW_  
Sherlock groaned and grabbed the gun again.

BANG! A new hole in the wall. He texted his friend, practically manic.

_DULL. - SH_

_Let's go out. - SH_

The reply was quick and angry and made Sherlock grin.

_Drop my gun or I WILL hurt you. This is one of those "subtext is shouting rather loudly" moments. DON'T tempt me. ~Captain JW_

He weighed the gun in his hand and tried to decide on an answer. On the one hand, John wasn't shy about punching people in the face, and Sherlock didn't quite fancy that. On the other, it was such fun to tease his friend.

And then, there was the fact that Sherlock was craving ice cream. John liked ice cream, didn't he? He'd be vague for safety.

_Let's go get sweets. - SH_

_I see through your attempted bribery, but I could go for a scoop of ice-crème. Hand over my Browning FIRST, then we'll go. ~JW_

Sherlock grinned at the reply and went to give John his gun back.


End file.
